Sunday, August 7, 2011

Mel Lewis – “The Tailor”

“Every time I hear him I am amazed at the influence he has on the sound and performance of a band. I've got LP's of him in a small group too and he's just as influential despite the restraint.”

– Brian Hope, Cambridge, England

“One thing about Dave Tough: he always was Dave Tough, just as Buddy Rich always was what he was. Tough realized we are what we are. The important thing is to be put into a musical situation where what you are can ‘happen.’ Tough found his place with Woody Herman.”

- Mel Lewis

“Mel and I first worked together years ago in Boyd Raeburn’s Band. His playing might seem laid back, but the time is always going on underneath, like a drone – it’s fantastic.”

- Eddie Bert, trombonist

“The one drumming intangible that no teacher can give to a pupil, regardless of investment, is time. This oft-misunderstood term is the fundamental standard by which musicians judge the quality of a drummer, and without it much of the studied rudiments are for naught. … Because of his innate time sense, Mel Lewis is one of the most over-worked drummers in the country.”

- Joe Quinn

“He is the antithesis of flamboyance and unnecessary aggres­sion. He plays what is necessary and relevant, adding an edge of adventure and individuality. Lewis allows the music and his gifts to couple in the most loving way possible."

- Burt Korall, author of Drummin’ Men: The Heartbeat of Jazz

Over the years, I’ve seen and heard Mel Lewis play in a variety of settings.

Night after night, I’d run around town to listen to him play drums in an assortment of big bands: the Terry Gibbs Big Band, the Marty Paich Tentette [recording sessions], and the Gerald Wilson Orchestra. And, although I never saw him in-person with Bill Holman's big band, Med Flory's big band or Stan Kenton's Orchestra, I memorized all of his performances on their recordings.

And when he wasn’t playing in big bands, I’d go hear him in small groups like the one he co-lead for a while with baritone saxophonist Pepper Adams, or the quintet he co-led with Bill Holman or as a member of pianist Claude Williamson’s trio.

In 1963, when he permanently moved to New York to continue as a member Gerry Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band, I caught him in concert in The Big Apple with Gerry’s marvelous band. Thereafter, I heard him play with the orchestra he co-led with Thad Jones. And when Thad left to go to Europe and Mel headed up his own orchestra until his death in 1990, I also checked out that band on a number of occasions.

During each of his performances, I’d stare a lot trying to figure out how he did it what he did.

But he “did” so little that while watching him all I actually saw was the minimalist action of his hands barely moving above the drums while he popped the accents, dropped bombs and drove the band mercilessly in what drummer Kenny Washington once described as Mel’s “rub-a-dub style.”

There was no flurry of technique on display in his drumming, no aggravated animation in the motion he used in getting round the drums, no complicated fills, kicks and solos.

Watching Mel as closely as I did for as long as I did, I came away with the same impression as the one that Burt Korall formed in the following description after seeing Davey Tough with the Woody Herman band perform its famous arrangement of Apple Honey at New York City’s Paramount Theater, in 1945:

“He went about his business with little of the grace of a Krupa and Jones, and none of the fireworks of Rich. But the excitement built as Tough, without physically giving the impression of strength, manipulated the band much as an animal trainer would a beautiful hard-to-control beast, making it respond to him. He cracked the whip under the ensemble and brass solo passages adding juice and muscle to the pulse and accents. Each soloist got individual treatment – a stroke here, an accent there, a fill further on, all perfectly placed.

He moved the band from one plateau to another, higher and higher. By the time the band was about to go into the final segment, the audience was totally captured. There was a point during this last section when it felt as though the band would take us through the roof.

When the piece came to an end with four rapid bass drum strokes, I couldn’t figure out what he had done. He had been in the foreground only once during a four bar break, …, otherwise his was the least self-serving performance I had ever witnessed. I turned to my friend. ‘He has no chops. How’d he do it? What happened?’

He smiled, not quite as puzzled as I. ‘It might not have seemed like much,’ he said. ‘But whatever he did, he sure lit a fire under that band.’”

That’s it, he lit a fire under the band!

But how’d Mel [and Davey] do it?

Mel played on an ordinary blue pearl set of Leedy drums and one of his A-Zildjan cymbals even had a huge chunk missing from it!

[Like most drummers, Mel was always looking for ways to cut down the overtones of his cymbals, but few of us were willing to go this far to cut down on their ringing qualities, i.e., overtones.Actually, I think the reason for the cut was to keep a crack in the cymbal from spreading]

Usually, his “big” drum ending was a snare drum roll and a cymbal crash, but what he had done before this simple ending was to kick, shove and drive the band to levels of excitement that took the listener’s breath-away.

It never seemed like much, but whatever Mel Lewis did, he lit a fire under every band he ever worked with or, as Brian Hope phrased it: ““Every time I hear him I am amazed at the influence he has on the sound and performance of a band.”

Away from the drums, you’d never guess that Mel was such an extraordinary drummer. He had none of the sparkle and the flair of a Gene Krupa or a Buddy Rich.

His appearance was so commonplace that vibraphonist and bandleader Terry Gibbs once gave him the nickname – The Tailor – because as Jack Tracy, the late editor of Downbeat, explains:

“Vibraphonist and band leader Terry Gibbs used to call him ‘Mel The Tailor’ because ‘I had this old Jewish tailor in Brooklyn who had bunions and walked funny. Mel walked just like him, so I called him The Tailor and it stuck. In later years Mel would tell people that he got that nickname because he played ‘tailor-made drums,’ but many of us knew better.”

Irrespective of his unusual walk and his dressed-down look, put Mel behind a set of drums, especially in a big band setting, and he was the epitome of style and grace.

We thought we’d turn to three writers, two of whom are themselves drummers and all of whom knew him well to see if somewhere in their written observations about him, there was an explanation of how Mel created his magic.

Mel Lewis, it should come as no surprise to you, is a consummate artist with im­peccable taste. This is attested to by the tremendous range of musicians who have vied for his services over the years: Dizzy Gillespie, Ben Webster, Hank Jones, Ben­ny Goodman, Count Basie, Gary McFarland, Eddie Sauter, Lionel Hampton, Gerry Mulligan, Johnny Hodges, and Bob Brookmeyer, to name just a few. It's a little-known fact that both Duke Ellington (in 1960 and '63) and Count Basie (in 1948) tried to get Mel, but it never worked out.

The amazing thing is that Mel is not a chameleon who sounds different with each group, but a drummer with such a universal conception, so that if the group is any good, Mel will fit it like a glove. Mel has a way of doing all the right things so subtly that you hardly notice them, until, that is, you have to play with someone else! As one musician remarked after struggling through an evening with a plodding drum­mer, "Mel Lewis never sounded better than he did tonight!" …

When Mel plays, the effect on the soloist and the ensemble is almost indescribable.”

Mel personified the ultimate in style.’ "Less is more’ is an oft-repeated saying that is directly applicable to Mel's drumming. Is ‘drumming’ an adequate description of what Mel did? I don't think so. He gave the music more than just a beat. In fact, the beat, itself a rather abstract concept, was just the most tangible element of his input.

Why did his presence make musicians feel like playing? In an interview done for The New York Times in October 1989, he said that he couldn't smile and play drums at the same time. While this put his concentrated demeanor in perspective, it was only partially true. Inside, he was doing much more than smiling. He was animating his very existence, and ours at the same time.”

Burt Korall, author of Drummin’ Men, The Heartbeat of Jazz: The Bebop Years [New York: Oxford, 2002] was a friend of Mel’s for thirty-five [35] years. Here are some excerpts from his chapter on Mel.

“Lewis learned the most valuable lessons of all from his father: to think as a musician, to do what was called for. Because of [Ben] Sokoloff [Mel’s Dad] and drummers he met as a youngster—e.g., Gene Krupa and Jo Jones—Lewis came to realize how important it is to know about the history of jazz and the instrument you play.

Krupa and Jones spoke to him about significant drummers and instru­mentalists of the past and present. They made the youngster aware of the basic necessities for playing jazz. And they advised him to get to know about music and drums from the inside—as a player.

Lewis: Dad took me to see and hear Krupa for the first time in 1934. The Benny Goodman band appeared at the Cinderella Ball, which was held in the Armory in Buffalo. I was five or six years old. Krupa ruined me. I loved what he did. The next time I saw him was in 1938, just before he left Goodman. Again my dad took me. Two years later, at ten, I cemented my relationship with Krupa. By that time, he had his own band. I played for him and we talked about drums and how they related to music.

From then on, I was "his man" in Buffalo. Every time Krupa was in the area, I was there. I traveled by bike, no matter how far away it happened to be. Sometimes it was as much as twenty-five miles.

"That Ace Drummer Man" and "Red" from Buffalo became so close that Krupa would call Mrs. Sokoloff for permission to take her son on the band bus to bookings in and around Buffalo.

Lewis was insatiable. He heard all the great bands that came though. He quizzed the drummers on just about everything. One evening, he became so involved with Jo Jones that the Basie star missed a date with a lovely lady of the chorus who danced at the Palace Theater, the local burlesque house. Sam Sokoloff played drums in the pit band there.

Lewis: Gene Krupa made me aware how important musicality and simplicity were. He had a lot of technique, but he was really the simplest. His playing was easy to understand. That's why so many of the older musicians liked him. Though he kept training and studying with a lot of people, he never attempted to do impossible things. He was into music and what fit, not speed and facility for their own sake.

As much as I admired Gene, his taste and all-around ability, I didn't want to play like him. I was more attracted to people like Jo, Dave Tough, and Sid Catlett and what they did for music.

Lewis sensed his future would not be built around technique. He was more interested in becoming an integral part of a big or small band's sound and thrust. The kind of drummer that appealed to him most as a youngster remained interesting to him at the end of his life. He favored understated yet strong and intense players of the instrument, those who mixed pulsation with pertinent coloration and gave music dimension. …

Sal Salvador: Mel and I were rooming together in New York. I'd been on the Stan Kenton hand for two years. Mel had been after the job with Stan for quite a while. Stan Levey was about to leave. He had some major disagree­ments with Kenton. Mel was doing the Ray Anthony TV show in town and waiting to get word from Kenton. Then the band broke up—and rapidly re­formed. Mel went through a lot of emotional turmoil before Stan called and hired him. Maynard had recommended him. Mel felt it was his main chance.

I had an opportunity to see and hear Lewis on one of Kenton's first concert dates with the newly revised band, at a large Seattle auditorium in September of 1954. He didn't seem to be in full control of the band or comfortable in the job.

Lewis: I remember that date in Seattle. I had just joined the band. Kenton was headlining a package tour. Shelly Manne and Sonny Igoe were the drum­mers with the other groups.

Lewis: Shelly gave me some great advice. I've always been grateful to him for telling me what had to be done. He said my cymbal beat was not what it should be. "You're not bringing out enough of the ‘1's’ and 3's’. The ‘2’s' and ‘4’s' are there. But the ‘1’s' and ‘3’s' have to be more prominent to control this band." This was very constructive criticism from someone who knew all about Kenton and how the music should be played. Many people heavily into ego might say: "Sure, man, thanks. Gee, I really appreciate it," then fluff the guy off. I acted on what Shelly told me. I believe you have to listen to people who have the experience and are trying to help you.

Sonny Igoe: Mel wasn't doing so well at first. He was lucky he stayed with the band long enough to become brilliant. Stan was going to let him go. As a matter of fact, after the tour was over, Stan asked me: "Are you going to stay with Charlie [Ventura]?" And I replied: "Charlie isn't sure what he's going to do." Stan posed a question: "How would you like to come with the band?" I said: "What are you going to do with Mel?" Stan felt it wasn't working out. I suggested: "Give it a chance; it'll work!" and it did. I was glad for Mel that he settled in and the situation righted itself.

It more than righted itself. Lewis felt he had to make everything work. He concentrated as never before. He took advice. He relaxed, allowing his imagination to float free, his talent to take hold. The band began swinging and Lewis gave it increasing impetus. His small band rhythmic approach to this colossus had a major effect on how the band moved and felt. His ability to play softly with more than an indication of muscle restructured the band's rhythmic identity. How he handled dynamics and fed the time line to the band had a telling effect on the players and all those who favored a Kenton turn away from mountains of sound and pomposity.

Bob Brookmeyer: The Kenton experience set him free. I heard the band at Birdland. Mel was all over the place, just playing so many interesting, provocative things behind the soloists and the band. He was outrageous.

What was growing apparent in the Kenton band burst forth during the last years of the 19505. Mel Lewis had gotten his stuff together in such a way that he couldn't be ignored. With Woody Herman at the Monterey Jazz Festival, he played so well it literally blew everyone away. His time was highly motivating. His sound on the instrument, the way he mixed, blended ideas, and burned, how he structured his performances, mingling intelli­gence and instinct—it was stunning.

There were various levels of intensity in his playing. On the Monterey opener, "Monterey Apple Tree," a revamp of "Apple Honey"(Woody Herman's Big New Herd At the Monterey Jazz Festival, Atlantic), Lewis sets the tree on fire. He pushes and provokes, hitting hard on the bass drum where the figures demand it. He puts together snare-bass drum patterns that enhance the rhythmic flow. All the while, the hi-hat is snapping on "2" and "4," and the side cymbal sound seduces everyone. The effect is so strong, you wonder why it had not been done exactly that way before.

Two other big band albums, both done during this significant phase of his career, The Fabulous Bill Holman (Coral) and Jazz Wave—Med Flory and His Orchestra (Jubilee), also show how far Mel had traveled since those trio gigs in Buffalo. Two tracks, Holman's view of Sonny Rollins's " Airegin" and Flory's original "Jazz Wave"—one at medium tempo, the other a little faster—are almost perfect performances.

Everything seems to fall in the right places, and the pulsation is undeni­able. The drums are just tight enough, tuned low, the bass drum open but controlled. These performances lift you up; both bands, which employed many of the same excellent Hollywood-based players—Al Porcino, Conte Candoli, Stu Williamson, Bill Perkins, Charlie Kennedy—are very much on the money.

Stylistically they mingle swing and bebop, to grand effect. Lewis has a lot to do with stirring things up to a level where the musicians can do nothing but respond. The section and ensemble work is dauntingly precise, swinging, and natural. Lewis struts and shuffles, smoothly moving the time forward. After you listen, the rhythm remains in your body—a happy presence, a good feeling that causes involuntary tapping and patting of your feet after the room has become silent.

Five CDs by Terry Gibbs's Dream Band (Contemporary), taped live in Hollywood clubs, 1959-61, tell the same story. The band is a killer. It had become what it was because of an enthusiastic leader, great musicians who shared the same concept about music—and Mel Lewis.

Lewis never plays too hard or too loud. A vocal minority accused him of laying back, not digging in deeply enough. I don't hear that. The drummer plays as well as he always told me he did, giving the band what it needed— the ingredients that made it explosive and engrossing. …

Bob Brookmeyer: When Mulligan's first Concert Jazz Band was in California, I went to a Terry Gibbs band rehearsal. I'd been writing some things for Terry and hadn't heard them performed. The band was just outrageous! Mel was fantastic, and all those guys were so strong. In comparison, Mulligan's band sounded like a bunch of amateurs.

So I said: "We've got to get this feeling!" I was staying with Mel and asked him to join the band. He said yes. I hired Buddy Clark and Conte Candoli as well. They all came back East. Mel commuted until 1963. He lived with me for a while and then with Richie Kamuca. He flew to New York in July of 1960 to make a record with us and returned in late August when the band played the Village Vanguard before we all went to Europe for a tour.

Mel did just what I expected. I remember the first night at the Vanguard. I We were playing Gerry's "Bweebida Bobbida." I looked over at him the first chance I had—and just grinned because it felt so good.

Mel remained with Mulligan until 1964, ….

Musically, the CJB was a major experience. Smaller and more compact than most bands—twelve pieces plus Gerry—it often sounded and felt like a small band with added instruments. Mulligan, Brookmeyer and the other writers—Gary McFarland, John Carisi, Bill Holman, George Russell, Al Cohn, Johnny Mandel—retained in their charts the light, fluid feeling so typical of Mulligan. The soloists—Mulligan, Brookmeyer, Zoot Sims, Conte Candoli, Nick Travis, Gene Quill—brought distinctive character to the essentially linear material and diversified the flavor of the band.

The CJB wasn't a burly, shouting ensemble. It had class, quality, and subtlety and swung more quietly than most bands. Lewis enhanced the good feeling of the rhythm. He was controlled yet intense, dropping in supportive ideas as the band moved ahead. But his ideas blended in with the CJB's sound. He was always there, keeping the motor well oiled..

The way he tuned his drums and entered into each chart, becoming a part of it, made a vast difference in how the music sounded and felt. As he always had, Lewis adjusted to the quiet and the dynamically more forceful music. You could hear various facets of his playing personality, ranging from a almost reserved "2" and "4" accents on the snare, reminiscent of Sam Woodyard with Ellington, to a Basie’/Jo Jones flow. But mostly it was Mel Lewis doing what he felt, keeping the parts and the whole picture in mind. He was very sensitive, very swinging.....

Bill Holman: Mel had a fantastic understanding of music. I knew that. But I realized it all the more when he and Bob [Brookmeyer], Jim [McNeely], and I worked in Cologne. We'd go in with at least an hour of new music, and he would get right to the meat of every chart—not necessarily like a drummer but like a complete musician, maybe even a conductor.

He'd hear everything that was happening and knew what to do—when to change color, when to do this and that. He certainly made my job easier. One or two times through the pieces and he knew them as well as I did, if not better. Mel could deal with all kinds of time and the atmospheric things that are part of my work.

Jim McNeely: Mel could make any band sound better by virtue of what and how he played. He liked variety, getting into new things. It was his simplicity and elegance that made his playing immediately identifiable. And he could play with anyone. As a writer, all you had to do was give him information about the music and he'd play what was needed. His gifts: great ears, psych­ing out forms, giving music shape and direction. It was his innate musical sense and that fat ride beat that made him so popular among musicians.

I think of him a lot. When I'm at the top of the stairs at the Vanguard, I miss the sound of his bass drum coming up to meet me. …

It also was part of Mel’s nature to take young drummers in hand and help and advise them. Kenny Washington, Danny Gottlieb, Jeff Hamilton, John Von Ohlen and Jay Cummings—the last drummer to play with the Stan Kenton band—among others, benefited by their association with him. Lewis knew about the music, about drumming, the history of the instrument, and equipment—and freely offered information to those who needed it.

Bob Brookmeyer: When Mel died, it was one of the biggest losses the music ever had. People all over the world suffered. And they'll never recover. We were sitting in Cologne, a key producer and I. We said, "Mel," and were silent for five minutes—because there's no replacement.

All of the bands, big and small, amateur and professional, that he made sound good have to feel a terrible, terrible loss. There will never be another like him. Mel was one of the greatest drummers of all. I'd stake my life on that.

What was he all about? I want to add a final comment, from a piece I wrote for International Musician about a year before he left: "Mel Lewis has a near perfect relationship with the beat. His time, a natural phenomenon, is firm when necessary, pliant if the music calls for it, buoyant, bubbling or quietly persuasive—but always swinging. He plays so he can be felt and serve as a guide and a source of inspiration for the musicians with whom he is engaged. Most important his time is never forced and builds upon its own flow and energy. He is the antithesis of flamboyance and unnecessary aggres­sion. He plays what is necessary and relevant, adding an edge of adventure and individuality. Lewis allows the music and his gifts to couple in the most loving way possible."

His legacy is on the records.”

And here are Kenny Washington’s reminiscences about Mel. Kenny is one of the best drummers on today’s Jazz scene and was the subject of an earlier feature on JazzProfiles which you can locate by going here.

“... When Mel started getting sick, I used to sub in the band for him. ...

"And I met Mel through Lee Konitz. Lee said, 'Gee, Mel, I’ve got this young drummer, man, he can play.' I was working this place called Stryker's Pub. Lee said, 'He can really play, but he plays too loud. Maybe you can come down and sort of give him some advice? So then Mel came down, right? I didn't know he was there. We were all hanging out outside, because it was warm. Lee said, 'Okay, time to play. Mel Lewis came in to check you out.'

"I played a set. First thing Mel said: 'I don't like your cymbals. I don't like those cymbals at all. And you're playing too goddamn loud! You could bust out the windows in this place!'"

We laughed. I said, "Mel was never exactly tactful."

"Oh buddy! Man. I knew he had a lot of hip cymbals."

"Yeah, you know where he got that big crash cymbal, I'm sure. Dizzy gave it to him."

I asked him about that cymbal. What I said to Mel, not out of disrespect, man, or being a wise guy, was, Well look, Mel, do you have any extra cymbals you could lay on me, or I could buy from you?' He looked at me. He wrote down his number. He said, 'Come on over to my house.'

"He was living right across the street from Ron Carter—74th or 75th, something like that. I get up to his place. Doris, his wife, lets me in. Mel's sitting there. He says, 'Have a seat.' He says, 'How old are you?' I told him. I was about twenty.

"He said, 'Are you married?'

"'No.'

"He said, 'Good! Stay that way! Because, man, you can really play, and I've seen that kind of thing mess up a whole lot of potentially great musi­cians.'"

I said, "Since you knew Mel so well, I'll tell you a story. The other day Connie Kay said to me that he thought Mel was maybe the best big-band drummer he ever heard. I mentioned this last night to Roger Kellaway, who worked with Mel a lot, and he said, 'Yeah, and if Mel were still alive, he'd be the first to tell you."*

"That's right!" Kenny said, laughing.

"Modesty was not his style."

"Oh man! But Mel was just great for me. We sat and talked. He says, 'But you play too goddamn loud. And another thing, you young drummers, you never use your bass drum. Now if it was a funk record, and there was no bass drum, you'd think something was wrong, now wouldn't you? And you play too loud. The band doesn't come up to the drummer, the drummer adjusts to the band.' He says, 'You remember that, man.' And so from then on, man, I used to come and hang around with him, and listen to the band. Or he'd come around where I was working to check me out. He'd come down any old time, unannounced. One time, I was working the Vanguard or somewhere and Mel says to me, 'Damn, Wash! Those drums sound like shit! Man, tune 'em, damn it, tune 'em.' Next night he comes back. He taps on my drums, he says, That's much better. Man, I knew you could tune your drums better than that?

"And about the bass drum. One of the last times that I saw him, I was working up at Bradley’s. So I'm playing. I'm sitting up there playing. I don't see him walk in. I'm looking someplace else, looking straight ahead. And all of sudden I see Mel! He's down there under the piano! All of a sudden he pops up his head. He says, 'Yeah, man, you're using that bass drum.' He was down there listening to see if he could hear the bass drum or not.

"Mel was beautiful to me."

"Dizzy makes that same point," I said, "about young players not using the bass drum."

…

"Mel was great. I used to come and play when he couldn't make it or if he had another gig. Or when he got sick. Especially during his last year. I used to come down and sub for him. I used to watch him. He was incredible.

"When he was going through chemotherapy, they had a big tribute concert, the American Jazz Orchestra. I used to play in that band. When Mel couldn't make it, he'd send me in as a sub for the concerts at CooperUnion. They decided to do a tribute to Mel. They played all his music, a retrospective of his career. They got a Johnny Mandel thing that Mel did with the Gerry Mulligan Concert Band back in the '60s. They got some Terry Gibbs things. Some Stan Kenton stuff, all kinds of pieces. Mel was worried about whether he was going to be able to remember all that stuff, because of the chemotherapy and what it does to your brain. By then he was completely bald.

"I came in. I said, 'Man, can I sit behind you so I can read the charts?'

"He said, 'Sure, man.' They called this tune off quicker than he could get the music out. He just started playing. There was this place where the band stopped and started, and he was catching everything. Bam, bam! And he hadn't played this, man, in thirty years. There was a place where he came in on the down beat instead of on the and, a half a beat off. He said, 'Damn, Wash. I don't remember this stuff.' And he was, bap, bap, bap-di-bap-bap, swingin' his ass off. And so after the tune was over, I said, 'Right, Mel. Right! You don't remember this stuff! You came in a half a beat early a couple of times, and you don't remember the stuff. Riiiight, Mel.' And the band started cracking up.

"I had never seen anything like that. He was an amazing cat, man. The best thing for me is, like, he was able and willing to show me anything I wanted. Just to be able to sit there and talk to him. That first night at his house, I sat there from seven in the evening until three in the morning. He was playing all these different records he had made, showing off his own talent and what he had done all these years. But! I learned a whole lot. He was showing me about adaptability. He said, 'Listen to what I played on the Barbra Streisand record Color Me Barbra? He fit into every one of those situations. I learned a lot that night.

"Any situation Mel was in, big band or small band, he took care of business. He didn't make any bad records. At all. Period."

Phil Woods 5tet Feat. Tom Harrell - "Azure"

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Bassist Chuck Israels on alto saxophonist Phil Woods

Quincy Jones had a band that was preparing to tour Europe in the summer of 1959. The band was rehearsing in the mezzanine of the Olympia Theatre and I somehow wrangled an invitation to attend a rehearsal. It was a great hand with some of Quincy's friends from Seattle, like Buddy Catlett and Patti Brown. Les Spann was the guitarist and played some flute solos. Sahib Shihab was in the saxophone section and Joe Harris played drums. I listened to a number of pieces in which there were solos played by various members of the band. It would be unfair to say that those solos were perfunctory, but later, when Phil Woods stood up from the lead alto chair to play his solo feature, the atmosphere changed. Phil played as if there were no tomorrow. The contrast was striking and I have always remembered the impression it left. If you practice rehearsing, then when the lime comes to perform, you are ready to rehearse. Phil practiced performing.

Legendary 1980 Weckl-Gadd-Colaiuta DRUM SHOWDOWN

Larry Bunker's Advice to a Young Drum Student

"Be yourself, keep good time, play musically and don't show off your "chops" [technique]. The only people who can appreciate them are other drummers, and nobody likes them anyway."

JazzProfiles Readers Forum

You have done a great service by reproducing this article. Gene really created a great portrait of Miller, especially with his new (for the time) interviews.

I was a great admirer of Gene's writing, and can say we were friends. If you like, I can send you a link to a memorial article I wrote for Doug Ramsey's blog Rifftides that I wrote after Gene died. He could be quite frustrating at times, but I learned a lot from him, and he definitely helped me to become a better writer.

Hi. I have been visiting his blog for a few months almost daily and I have to thank him for his work, contributing interesting articles about music and Jazz musicians which is helping me discover new things, to value others that I did not appreciate at the time and to recover some that I enjoyed. and I have forgotten. -Greetings and many thanks from Toledo Spain.

Great write up of one helluva release by Bill Lichtenauer of Tantara Productions. Magnificent list, great technology, and fantastic Kenton sounds. Thanks Steve...and thanks, Bill. And the liner notes were done superbly by Michael Sparke of the UK. Tony Agostinelli

Thanks Steven for making this available to a wider readership. This book was like a "bible" to me when I first started collecting aged 16. I still have my original copy ... complete with marginalia as I filled in my collection. I had to wait until I moved to London in 1958 to acquire many of these albums on the British labels like Esquire .... this brings back so many pleasant memories, but it also reminds me that time does proceed, relentlessly.

Garth.

This book was like a "bible" to me when I was a serious collector, aged 16 .... I still have my original copy, in excellent condition after all these years, over three continents complete with marginalia as I built my collection. Bravo to you Steve for making these early observations available for others to read. Raymond Horricks followed this book up with "These Jazzmen Of Our Time" (Gollancz, 1959), which contained some great early portraits by Herman Leonard.

I met him twice. He was playing at a mall with the Westchester jazz band. That was around 97 or so. They were taking a break and I started talking to him. He was super nice. I mention my grandfather was a jazz trumpet player Bunny Berigan. I did not know who Bill was but like the way he played bass that day. I ran across his book on jazz in the white plains library. I was surprise at knowledge and who he played with in jazz. I seen him again at the same place a year later and got to talk to him.Very nice again to me. I asked him about Zoot Sims. And about Benny Goodman which he your with in Russian . My grandfather played with Benny too at one time. Seems they both found him hard to deal with. What a fine man Bill is.

I discovered Oliver Nelson in 1977 and could not believe my ears. At the time it was obviously a vinyl record and belonged to somebody else. However, thanks to the technology of today I can listen to my cd of Blues and the Abstract Truth to my heart's content. You have told me so much more about this wonderful man's unique style. If I want to feel good, I just listen to Stolen Moments. Thank you.

I have been listening to 1 of greatest piece of orchestration of Stan Kenton style music I've ever listened too arranged by a young trumpet player & arranger Bill Mathieu it's Kenton it Mathieu but mostly a great music . the complexed overlays , blending , fitting in soloists at just the right moment , plus the swelling of the whole orchestra to create the Kenton sound without losing his own indemnity is outstanding . Thank Bill Thank you Stan ... Jim Shelton

Peter Haslund has left a new comment on your post "Mark Murphy: 1932-2015, R.I.P.":

Just discovered Mr. Murphy. Gotta say it leaves me speechless that I listened to jazz since the 80s and never once heard his name. All the stuff that sounded so contrived with Sinatra (who obviously knew he was really singing black people's music) is fresh and free with Mark. RIP.

Hi Steven,

I read with interest your recent piece about the Boss Brass. I live in Toronto, and when it comes to the Canadian jazz scene, it's hard to overstate how influential this band was. Besides the quality of McConnell's arrangements, the musicians were all top-name guys in the city (many with vigorous solo careers). What has always floored me about their playing is the tightness and especially intonation in the woodwinds -- the skill of the horn players at playing doubles (flutes and clarinets) is legendary.

I feel fortunate to have been able to hear them live, on a number of occasions. From the stories I've heard, either third-hand or right from former Boss Brass members, Rob was a really hard guy to work with, but certainly pushed his group toward excellence.

I also liked your recent piece on Pat Martino. I'm a big fan of his style. If you haven't read his autobiography, I highly recommend it! His personal story is, of course, fascinating and inspiring.

Speaking of guitarists, someone you may want to profile someday is the Canadian jazz guitarist Ed Bickert. He was the guitarist for the Boss Brass for many decades. He is now quite elderly and no longer playing, but is another of those guys who was phenomenally influential, though I think he largely flew under-the-radar south of the border.

Thanks for putting together such a great site, and best wishes.

Jordan Wosnick

You can share your thoughts, observations and general remarks in the Readers Forum by contacting JazzProfiles via scerra@roadrunner.com

Hi Steve...I'm not a Facebook or Twitter guy so here's hoping this email reaches you...

You indicated that you were not aware of published Mulligan biographies in your recent post on Gerry and I wanted to bring one to your attention that I think you will like:

JERU'S JOURNEY by Sanford Josephson. It was published in 2015 by Hal Leonard Books. It's part of the Hal Leonard Biography Series which also includes bios of Cannonball Adderley, Herbie Mann & Billy Eckstine.

I own the Adderley and Mann bios and also recommend them.

Jeru's Journey is an easy read and covers Mulligan's life from birth to his passing. It is a very good overview and the author--who knew Mulligan and interviewed him before his passing--tells Gerry's story completely including Mulligan's drug addiction, domestic (wives) issues, etc. along with good musical analysis and insights both of the author's and other musicians. In addition to a good discography there are many photographs.

The list price is $19.99. A good buy.

In closing, I would like to tell you how much I have enjoyed your blog over the years. I have recommended it to many musician friends and all have thanked me. Thanks again for helping to keep the jazz alive...

Bruce Armstrong

You can share your thoughts, observations and general remarks in the Readers Forum by contacting JazzProfiles via scerra@roadrunner.com

Les Koenig was clearly a GIANT despite his obvious preference to be low-key, himself. THANK YOU, Steven Cerra!!! The world is a better place because of people like Les! Like Laurie(Pepper) & the list goes on & on forever! Like YOU, Steven! Thanks to ALL who work behind the scenes, on or off-stage, etc. etc. etc... -in support of the featured "Player" & "Sidemen" so that "We the people..." can be out in the audience having the time of our lives enjoying "the show" or "Artistry, Talent, Efforts" and so on! My attitude is one of gratitude!! THIS art form & ALL original American Art forms must be preserved and encouraged to not only survive, but to thrive!!!

Diz

"Jazz is a gift. If you can hear it, you can have it."

Piano Players: Dick Katz on Erroll Garner

“Unique is an inadequate word to describe Erroll Garner. He was a musical phenomenon unlike any other. One of the most appealing performers in Jazz history, he influenced almost every pianist who played in his era, and even beyond. Self-taught, he could not read music, yet he did things that trained pianists could not play or even imagine. Garner was a one-man swing band, and indeed often acknowledged that his main inspiration was the big bands of the thirties – Duke, Basie, Lunceford, et al. He developed a self-sufficient, extremely full style that was characterized by a rock-steady left-hand that also sounded like a strumming rhythm guitar. Juxtaposed against this was a river of chordal or single note ideas, frequently stated in a lagging, behind-the-beat way that generated terrific swing.” [

Paul Desmond

Cannonball Adderley, who was at one point a rival of Paul's in the various polls and whose robust gospel-drenched playing was worlds apart once said: ‘He is a profoundly beautiful player.’ Writer Nat Hentoff said. "He could put you in a trance, catch you in memory and desire, make you forget the garlic and sapphires in the mud."

Drummers Corner: Larry Bunker on Shelly Manne

“In a truly formal sense, Shelly could barely play the drums. If you gave him a pair of sticks and a snare drum and had him play rudi­ments—an open and closed roll, paradiddles, and all that kind of thing—he didn't sound like much. He never had that kind of training and wasn't inter­ested in it. For him it was a matter of playing the drums with the music. He could play more music in four bars than almost anyone else. His drums sounded gorgeous. They recorded sensationally. All you had to hear was three or four bars and you knew it was Shelly Manne. - Larry Bunker, Jazz drummer and premier, studio percussionist

The 1954 Birdland Recordings of Art Blakey and The Jazz Messengers

The 1954 Birdland recordings on Blue Note provided the stylistic foundation for the rest of Art Blakey's career. His style had completely crystallized. His pulsation was undeniable, a natural force; the counter-rhythms he brought to the mix made what he played that much more affecting. There was a purity about what he did—and always motion. He was spontaneous, free, creating every minute. That he was in the company of peers, all performing in an admirable manner, had a lot to do with making this "on-the-spot" session such an important musical document. The band never stops burning. The exhilarating Clifford Brown moves undaunted through material, fast, slow, in between, playing fantastic, well-phrased ideas that unfold in an unbroken stream. His technique, almost perfect; his sound, burnished. He's a gift to the senses. Lou Donaldson, an underrated alto player in the Bird tradition, offers much to think about while you're tapping your foot. Horace Silver is crucial to the effect of this music, much of it his own. Certainly the rhythms that inform his piano playing and writing make it all the more soulful. On this and other records he serves as a catalytic agent, provoking swing and engaging intensity. Hard-hitting, unpretentious, communicative, Silver has little use for compositional elements or piano techniques that impede his message. A live-in pulse permeates his music and his playing, strongly affecting the shape, content, and level of excitement of his performances and those of his colleagues. An original and tellingly economic amalgam of Parker, the blues, shuffling dance rhythms, and a taste of the black church for flavor, Silver is quite undeniable. Listen to his delightful "Quicksilver" on A Night at Birdland With the Art Blakey Quintet, Vol. 1 (Blue Note). It capsulizes what he does. On this album, Curly Russell shows once again he can play "up" tempos and interesting changes. He ties in well with Blakey. But Silver and Blakey, in combination, determine the rhythmic disposition of the music. Blakey's natural time and fire raise the heat to an explosive level before the listener realizes how hot the fire has become. Perhaps more than other recordings Blakey has made, the Birdland session documents his great strengths and technical failings. At almost every turn, he shows what an enviably well coordinated, buoyantly confident, rhythmically discerning player he is.

BOP AND DRUMS—A NEW WORLD

From the Introduction to Burt Korall, “Drummin’ Men: The Bebop Years”

“It is difficult for young musicians and jazz devotees to fully comprehend the tumultuous effect that the advent of bop had on drummers. The new music demanded new, relevant, trigger-fast, musical, well-placed reactions from the person behind the drum set—an entirely revamped view of time and rhythm, techniques, and musical attitudes.

How well did drummers deal with bop? The innovators, like Kenny Clarke and Max Roach, opened the path and showed how it was done. Young disciples—if they had talent, sensitivity, and the necessary instincts— caught on and made contributions. Other drummers stylistically modified the way they played, trying to combine the old with the new. This was tricky at best. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it was a matter of apples and oranges. Still others fought change and what it implied.

Not welcomed by many swing drummers and their more traditional predecessors, the new wave was looked upon as the enemy, sources of disruption and unnecessary noise. Those stuck in the past could not accept breaking time, using the drum set as both color resource and time center. The structural and emotional differences essential to bebop, the need for virtuosity, and the ability to think quickly and perform appropriately intimidated them. The demands of the music were strange and often devastating; a feeling of hostility built up in them. The basic reasons were quite clear. The new music could ultimately challenge their earning ability and position in the drum hierarchy."

Gerry Mulligan 1927-1996

“… Gerry Mulligan lived through almost the entire history of jazz. It is against that background that he should be understood.” – Gene Lees

Gunther Schuller on Sonny Rollins

“Rhythmically, Rollins is as imaginative and strong as in his melodic concepts. And why not? The two are really inseparable, or at least should be. In his recordings as well as during several evenings at Birdland recently [Fall/1958] Rollins indicated that he can probably take any rhythmic formation and make it swing. This ability enables him to run the gamut of extremes— from almost a whole chorus of non-syncopated quarter notes (which in other hands might be just naive and square but through Rollins' sense of humor and superb timing are transformed into a swinging line) to asymmetrical groupings of fives and sevens or between the-beat rhythms that defy notation. As for his imagination, it is prodigiously fertile. And indeed I can think of no better and more irrefutable proof of the fact that discipline and thought do not necessarily result in cold or un-swinging music than a typical Rollins performance. No one swings more (hard or gentle) and is more passionate in his musical expression than Sonny Rollins . It ultimately boils down to how much talent an artist has; the greater the demands of his art both emotionally and intellectually the greater the talent necessary.”

Artie Shaw on Louis Armstrong as told to Gene Lees

Artie said, "You are too young to know the impact Louis had in the 1920s," he said. "By the time you were old enough to appreciate Louis, you had been hearing those who derived from him. You cannot imagine how radical he was to all of us. Revolutionary. He defined not only how you play a trumpet solo but how you play a solo on any instrument. Had Louis Armstrong never lived, I suppose there would be a jazz, but it would be very different."

Pops

Bill Crow on Louis Amstrong

Louis Armstrong transformed jazz. He played with a strength and inventiveness that illuminated every jazz musician that heard his music. Louis was able to do things on the trumpet that had previously been considered impossible. His tone and range and phrasing became criteria by which other jazz musicians measured themselves. He established the basic vocabulary of jazz phrases, and his work became the foundation of every jazz musician who followed him.

Bassist Eddie Gomez on Pianist Bill Evans

“Bill's music is profoundly expressive. It is passionate, intellectual, and without pretense. Eleven years with his trio afforded me the opportunity to perform, record, travel, and most importantly learn. My development as an artist is largely due to his encouragement, support, and patience. He instilled confidence in me, while at the same time urging me to search for my own voice and for new ways to make the music vital and creative. And Bill believed that repertoire, both new and old, would organically flourish in repeated live performance. In fact, there were precious few rehearsals, even before recording sessions. … When Bill passed away late in 1980, it was clear that all of us in the jazz world had sustained a huge loss. I was shocked and saddened; in my heart I had always felt that some day there would be a reunion concert. Had I been able to look into a crystal ball and foresee his death, perhaps I might have stayed in the trio for a longer period. I still dream about one more set with Bill. He closes his eyes, turns his head to one side, and every heartfelt note seems etched and bathed in gold. How I miss that sound.”

John Coltrane on Stan Getz

Coltrane himself said of the mellifluous Stan Getz, "Let's face it--we'd all sound like that if we could."

Peter Bernstein on Bobby Hutcherson

I got to play with Bobby Hutcherson at Dizzy's a few years ago, which ended up on a CD [2012's Somewhere In The Night on Kind of Blue Records]. I was four feet away from him, thinking, "How is this man just hitting metal bars with wooden sticks with cotton on the end and making such an expressive statement?" The instrument is just like ... it's him! He's imbuing it with his thoughts and feelings. That's a miraculous thing. The instrument itself disappears when you're talking about a master on that level.

Ralph Bowen

“In a way, the entire act of music is mind put into sound. It has to go through some sort of physical medium in order to be heard. I chose the saxophone, but the whole issue is to have such control over the instrument and over what you hear that the instrument physically doesn't get in the way of visualizing sound. Technique to me means dealing with an instrument in the most efficient manner possible so that it's no more than peripheral to expression."